Fall from one Sky and Ascend into Another
by Sydella
Summary: How exactly was Daemon recruited into the second generation? Leaving one don for another is not a tale for the faint-hearted. First-person POV.


Ricardo produces a small fireball and I inhale its intoxicating scent, the fragrance of uncontrollable fury. He is standing in a sunlit part of an otherwise dark room, looking for all the world like a fallen angel, and I am too dazzled to look away.

"You want to join me?" he says calmly, evenly. The inscrutable expression on his face belies the tension emanating from him.

"Yes." I lean forward eagerly. "The Vongola is such a great _famiglia _that a great leader is absolutely necessary. Primo is no longer a suitable don, and who better to take up the mantle than you?"

Ricardo studies me for a moment. "How," he says softly, and here he pauses as if choosing his words carefully, "can I know for sure that you're not spying for Primo?"

Rustling sounds reach my ears and I glance around the room. The silhouettes of five young men are barely visible, grouped around Ricardo like a pack of wolves surrounding their alpha. One of them laughs silkily. "Indeed. How can we trust someone who claims to have defected from Primo's side?"

"Should Ricardo desire a Mist Guardian, the streets of Italy are full of skilled and experienced men who are thirsty for violence," another murmurs. "There is no shortage of men like us in our country."

Ricardo takes a step towards me, and his inner circle fall silent. Their anticipation is almost palpable as he caresses my face. "What lies behind this countenance?" he asks, his tone so gentle that it could easily be mistaken for kindness in a lesser man. "Are you a fighter, lover or thinker, Daemon Spade? Which legion of hell marks you as one of their own?"

I almost lean into his embrace. Oh, to be so close to the glorious and infamous tyrant. Men and women have thrown themselves at his feet since the day he was born. But wait, I must not allow myself to be tempted. I know I have to look into his eyes and make him see me as an equal. Pulling back, I give myself a moment to regain my composure, and then I smile the cunning smile that has won me favours from politicians and kisses from fair maidens. "Hell? I am no demon, despite my name. I am merely one of the many who wish to serve you. As for your other questions, let me join you in making our brethren submit to us and you shall find out."

He smiles back, but it does not reach his eyes. "Careful now, my dear Daemon. You speak in the manner of a man whose future is assured. I have been charitable to you so far, but do not mistake my generosity for guaranteed acceptance."

I bow, humbled. "Forgive me. I am so ready to join you that I became presumptuous. Please excuse my folly."

"Mm." He makes a noncommittal sound and looks at his inner circle. "What say you, gentlemen? Shall we let Daemon Spade join us?"

This gets a cacophony of responses, until one cuts through the rest. The silky voice from earlier sounds irritated, its owner shifting on a loveseat couch as a ray of sunlight illuminates a sliver of his pale face. "Primo is as secretive and mysterious as all hell. For all we know, he is still as powerful as ever, and this man is reporting to him like a good little mole."

"Sir." I hate to address the ignorant twerp with any form of respect, but force myself to. "I can assure you that my betrayal is irrevocable and the decision to leave Primo was made of my own volition. I will serve our lord to the best of my abilities, and I absolutely will not disappoint our lord. Or you, for that matter." I cannot resist the little jibe. The twerp glares at me, but gives no other indication that my remark offends him.

"Well, _I _don't think it's a matter of loyalty," a tall figure standing near the window mutters. From what little I can see of his features, he is blonde and has a vicious smile. "I believe it is a question of competence. Is a man who could not protect his own lover fit to join our ranks?"

I am more upset than I care to admit. Elena's death still weighs heavily on me. The funeral ended barely a month ago and the mere thought of her beautiful face, rosy-cheeked in life and ashen in death, brings tears to my eyes. I suppress my overwhelming sorrow and force a smile, for I know these men will pounce at the smallest sign of weakness.

"My lover's death is, as you say, on my hands. However, I am certain that we have all lost loved ones, and not always due to incompetence or oversight." I look at each and every one of them, gauging their reactions. Their hostility appears to be wearing off somewhat, and the blonde smiles again, this time with a little more respect. But of course, Ricardo's response matters the most. I turn to look at him again. He is frowning and leaning against a wall with a faraway look in his eyes.

"My lord?" I prompt him.

He blinks, emerging from his reverie. "Very well. My Guardians have heard what you have to say, and you now have their approval." He glances at them and they nod in confirmation. "There is one last thing. The final test. If you do not pass it, I will kill you where you stand."

I take a deep breath. "I'm ready."

With slow, precise movements, Ricardo pushes away from the wall and walks towards me. I steel myself for an interrogation, but what he does next is so unpredictable that I would swear on a Bible that I never saw it coming.

The Flame of Wrath suddenly singes my skin and hair. That intoxicating scent from earlier fills the room, only now it is no longer intoxicating but instead maddens me with pain. I fall to my knees and Ricardo looms over me, his features twisted into the sneer of a malevolent god.

"Do you accept the burden of serving me, the bringer of the Vongola's wrath and the curse of the Mafia?" he shouts as I scream and thrash about in agony. "DO YOU?!"

"I do!" I manage to will the words out of my mouth, even as indescribable pain devours me from head to toe.

"Will you eliminate anyone and everyone who opposes us, down to the last man, woman or child?" he demands.

"I will!" I feel as if the very core of my being has been taken from me. Then, abruptly, the feeling ceases and in its stead is a refreshing sensation, as if I have been cleansed and reborn.

"Rise, Daemon Spade," Ricardo commands, the smallest of smiles on his lips. "Take your place as my Mist Guardian."

I dutifully comply and my new fellow Guardians congratulate me. "Welcome, brother," the blonde purrs, cupping my cheeks.

"Thank you." And I mean it. I look over at Ricardo, who is once again drenched in sunlight. He looks back at me, his smile already gone and replaced with his usual stern expression. I think of Primo and how one god can be overthrown by another, soft nature and weak will giving way to harsh punishment and ruling with an iron fist.

"I wonder what kind of man you will become, Daemon Spade," he says as his other Guardians flock around me like a murder of hungry crows. "You may have just made a deal with the devil."

I smile at my fellow Guardians, who smile back at me. It does not escape my attention that their bodies are adorned with scars, undoubtedly the remnants of healed burn wounds. Despite this, they are, as Elena would have said, as beautiful as Botticelli angels. I take Ricardo's hand and kiss his ring.

"Perhaps," I reply. "But a little evil goes a long way to make the Clam eternal."


End file.
